To All My Parents...

My parents' love, of course, produced in them a strong need to create an "extension of themselves" if you will. They were unable to have children of their own, suffered immeasurably in their efforts to do so, loved each other(and still do) more than I could ever begin to describe. When a child of their own was denied them, they conquered the evils of nature and adopted children whose biological parents could or could not raise them. I was fortunate; I was adopted as a newborn, only 3 months of age, into a loving family equipped with a mommy, a daddy and a big brother who was adopted at 6 months of age, 5 years earlier.

It was my own pregnancies and many years working in the childbirth arena that caused me to consider that my parents had never experienced the joy of 9 months anticipation or the pain of 9 months of self doubt in their ability to properly parent. Yet, they did, as they endured endless months of paperwork, psychological evaluations, home visits and such by Catholic Social Services. My parents never experienced the pains and the triumphs of childbirth. Yet, they did, as they waited each long day, guts churning each time the phone would ring, wondering if this would be the call to tell them they had been approved to adopt. Then came the long awaited phone call to tell them that indeed, there was a baby for them. My parents never experienced the fears as a newborn was placed into their hands for the first time. Yet, they did, only to couple it with trying to make up for the months lost between our births and subsequent 'delivery' to them - which brings me to my biological parents.

I have spent my life considering the extraordinary pain one goes through in giving up a child. Add to that, that until very recently (and still often today), the entire 'episode' in ones life is "forgotten", or ignored as if never happened by close family and friends. For most, there is little or no formal, professionally assisted, grieving or coping, and yet the loss is incomparable. Young women, older
women, and their partners involved (hopefully) tend to be treated with the attitude of "just forget it and go on". These things only cause those who've given up a child to mourn alone, grieve to no end, and shelve away a pain so deep and so strong - no adequate words can describe it. That pain affects every part of their being and every aspect of their lives from that day forward - just ask them.

I wish to find and meet my biological mother and father. I realize how unlikely that is. I realize how life altering such a meeting could be for them and myself. Equal or beyond any joy, such a meeting is bound to stir unimaginable memories of pain for my biological parents, and perhaps, never before realized fears in me. However, it is a risk I am willing to take, should they be willing as well. At best, (a mutual meeting) there is no guarantee either party will find what they hoped for, or what logic has prepared them for.

Add to this, that I was once in a similar position as my biological parents, but made a very different choice in the end. I knew I had not the maturity to raise a child at such a young age, nor could I bare the thought of giving the child away, of causing that child to go through life with certain voids and the pain and endless questions that come with. Do I fault my biological parents for sending me into a
life that included such? Not on your life.

While I will never punish myself by thinking I did the wrong thing, I want them to know and to hear it from me, that they did the right thing. I am not defining choosing life over death of a fetus as right, though I do ultimately think it is best. Whether by choice or by circumstance, I was brought into the world to a couple unable or maybe, unwilling to take care of me. In the end, it worked out for me in such a way that I can only be grateful. I had a happy upbringing, all the things a child could want or need, all the love one can imagine, all the opportunities a child could run with - or throw away. I was raised knowing, and yet had no recollection of ever actually being told, that I was adopted. It just seemed to be something I not only always knew but, understood. I was never made to feel "special" or "grateful" to them. I was simply their child, whom they loved. It was all so normal to me. Yet, I lived my life with an emptiness that took years to understand and can only be filled with information I do not have. No amount of love could have filled that void and no amount of love has yet to.

Knowing that my biological parents most likely suffered the same emptiness and pain, it is for that reason above all else that I wish to find them. I wish to ease their pain, knowing that they must have spent their lives wondering if indeed they had done the right thing.

Of course, there are the "for me" reasons for finding them. As a child, specifically a teenager, one goes through a definite identity crisis. As no one can argue that, let me suggest that as an adoptee, you multiply that crisis, by say, 10 times. A poem I wrote to my parents, mostly after the birth of my first child, and adapted after the birth of my second, sums it up best.

A Rescued Heart and Soul

before it's too late, or I forget how
for other things occupy my mind now......

you did not know me when I arrived
yet a strangers' child was loved and thrived
and so often wondered what might have been
had you not the heart - and let me in

now I see before me, children of my own
miracles taken for granted
something you've never known
so many things I will teach them
all lessons from you
to love those around them
to let no one be alone
to respect ones' existence
to appreciate home

unlike myself, they will know who they are
with roots to draw from
even if only so far
they will have a bit of my fury
a bit of his calm
a combination that will make them strong
her eyes shaped like his
and she, her mother's smile

we get to look back at ourselves for a while............

should I tell them of my troubles
as a growing child
not knowing who I was
of being so wild
inventing myself almost daily
of wondering what it would be
to be a person with history
a basis from which to see

I want them not to dwell
on the unknown past
but to be thankful as I have become
for all that they have
to be grateful for the love
the laughs and the tears
just as we shared
throughout the years
that those three things
happy and sad
are what truly define
a Mom and a Dad

jkc,1997

I simply want to know who I am. I want to couple that with the environment and the parenting, which served their parts in molding me. I want to know whose smile I have, whose temper, strength, weakness, bold-faced arrogance, and funny if not sometimes strange sense of humor I have. I want to know if I have had any of the same life's dreams as one or the other. Have I somehow followed in either of their footsteps? How far did the apple fall from the tree? I want, for the first time in my life, to have some sense of from where and whom I came. I want to know my roots and under what circumstances I came to be. I want to know what their dreams were for me. I want to tell them everything they have wondered about me all these years. I want them to know me.

Yes, I hope that they will share with me, the reasons why they gave me away. Yes, I wish to know if I was wanted. Yes, I wish to know if my father knew or knows of my existence. These reasons people assume I wish to find my biological parents are the reasons that exist at the bottom of my list of 'why's'. I would gladly take that information and promise never to judge them on their answers, for I know I am in no position to judge, but to simply be thankful for knowing, and thankful they made the choices they did in the end. I am thankful to all my parents for everything they did for me.